


Ritual

by DoctorCannoli



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorCannoli/pseuds/DoctorCannoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Will and Clarice smoke together, seeking solace in a shared habit. Other times, Hannibal joins them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannigramcracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/gifts).



> This is a birthday fic to my best friend and beta-wife, hannigramcracker! Happy birthday, love!

Will and Clarice smoke together sometimes. In the orange haze of evening, they meander out to the door and sit on the steps of the porch, blowing rings of smoke towards the setting sun. They both picked up the habit when they were younger, a mechanism for coping with pressures and demons that refused to quit, and some nights it is a comfort still. Both of them have long since given up any sort of regular habit, knowing they weren’t getting any younger and couldn’t afford to destroy their lungs any more than they already had, but it's more about relaxation than addiction. More than that, it’s a way of connecting, something the two of them can share. 

Sometimes, Hannibal will join them, once he has finished cleaning up from dinner. Understandably, he does not necessarily understand their predilection for the habit; Hannibal is very conscious of what he puts into his body and he doesn’t like the idea of filling it with poisons. In the past though, he had smoked a cigarette now and again, first as a young man in Europe and then again in med school, to help with the stress. However, despite his mild distaste for the habit, the smell of nicotine beckons him. The heady scent of nicotine reminds him of his childhood, (his father smoked – as did Will’s and Clarice’s), and the smell is oddly comforting, even if the taste turns his stomach.  
Nonetheless, he takes pleasure in the fact that Clarice and Will have managed to carve out a niche all their own in this relationship of theirs. He is often amazed at how willing each of them were to make this odd little lifestyle work, and he is thankful that Will and Clarice have bonded over something as simple as cigarettes. They amuse him, stealing away in the evenings as they are prone to do, as sneaky as teenagers, smuggling their pack of smokes out of doors and out of sight in order to puff away when they think he’s not paying attention. 

He always knows, though. He can smell the smoke clinging to their clothing, infused in their hair. He can taste the bitterness and the ashes on their tongues and see the slight guilt in their gazes.

It’s completely unprecedented, the night he joins them on the porch and quietly asks for a cigarette. Clarice and Will exchange a bewildered look before handing him the mostly-full carton and a lighter. They have no idea what has brought on this impulse – and Hannibal isn’t sure he knows either – but he settles on the step a few feet away from them and lights the cigarette, taking a long, slow drag. Both Will and Clarice decide it’s the sexiest thing they’ve ever seen and when all three of them tumble into bed that night, they fuck him senseless.

From then on, Hannibal joins them from time to time. It isn’t often, as he doesn’t like to intrude on what was originally their time alone, but when he does, it is mainly because he knows and relishes the reactions he will create in his companions. The sex that follows never ceases to disappoint, either. For all of them, there is something electrifying about the smell of smoke clinging to hair and skin, the taste of nicotine in their mouths, and the dangerous thrill of something generally thought of as forbidden that drives them wild. 

Sometimes, though, they smoke together for other reasons. The one time Hannibal didn’t come home from the grocery store, Will and Clarice went through a whole pack, one right after another, fearing the worst. The night Will’s dog was hit by a car, the three of them sat up all night, Hannibal and Clarice passing a cigarette back and forth while Will held the pup in his arms until it faded away into sleep. The day when Clarice had a pregnancy scare and locked herself in her room, the two men smoked together in silence, neither of them saying anything until she emerged a few hours later, a blank expression on her face and asked for a cigarette.

There are also times each of them smokes alone. When Hannibal dreams of Mischa. When Will sees the ghosts of Hobbs and Georgia and Abigail. When Clarice hears the lambs screaming. It is then that one of them will slip away from the others, grab the ever-present carton from the kitchen drawer, and seek sanctuary on the porch. They’ll take as much time as they need before rejoining the others, knowing they will be welcomed back with gentle smiles and warm hands and soft lips.

Despite all this, the ritual remains sacred, a primal means of connecting, a tiny thread that binds the three of them together.


End file.
